


All I have

by Badgerbitch



Series: Shameless, kinky Jamilton smut [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Begging, Blindfolds, Bondage, Branding, Canon Era, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dom Thomas Jefferson, Fear Play, Hate Sex, Humiliation, If this was from Jefferson's pov it would be dubcon, M/M, Objectification, Oral Sex, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sexual Slavery, Slut Shaming, Smut, Spanking, Sub Alexander Hamilton, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29084778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badgerbitch/pseuds/Badgerbitch
Summary: After publishing the Reynolds Pamphlet, Hamilton's life is in ruins. There is nothing he can do anymore to change America for the better. Well, except one thing. He'd let Jefferson fuck him for political favors before, he can do it again. Except this time he offers more. In exchange for abolition, Hamilton agrees to become Jefferson's slave.I needed a reason why Hamilton is Jefferson's sex slave, and I wanted no actual historical slaves anywhere near my smut. This was the best excuse I could come up with. It doesn't make sense, but neither does getting stuck under a bed. It's porn logic, ok?
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Series: Shameless, kinky Jamilton smut [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185338
Comments: 18
Kudos: 68





	All I have

Hamilton knocked on Jefferson's door, and the vice president answered. He looked so powerful with his dark purple waistcoat, towering over Hamilton by a couple inches. Good, powerful was exactly what he needed.

When Hamilton told Jefferson that the conversation he had come for was one to be had in private, the man let him in, smirking like he had just won a game Hamilton wasn't even aware they had been playing.

"I kept my mouth shut, you know. It's entirely your fault the world knows what a whore you are."

Hamilton didn't flinch when Jefferson called him a whore. He had been called much worse, while on his knees and choking on Jefferson's cock in exchange for his dept plan, and some times afterwards, for some little favor or another.

At least, that's what he had told Jefferson. Hamilton didn't want to give Jefferson the satisfaction of knowing that he took his cock because he liked it.

On the cabinet floor, Jefferson's insults made his blood boil and he wanted to strangle that asshole with his own stupid velvet coat. But when they were alone, his voice took on a tone that made Hamilton shiver with an entirely different kind of want.

"I know, but I am ruined nonetheless. No one will vote me into any office, and no one will read what I write, but I am desperate for a way to keep shaping our country."

Jefferson chuckled. "And so you decided to whore yourself out again. What do you want this time?"

Hamilton looked him in the eyes and said, with a calm voice: "Abolition."

Jefferson laughed: "Listen darlin', you're pretty. But you could take my cock for a whole year and that would still be too much. If you're _desperate_ , you gotta lower your prices."

Hamilton resisted the urge to look down as he said: "I'm offering more than a year. You can have me whenever you want, forever. My only condition is that I'm allowed to publish anonymous writings, but otherwise I'm yours."

The Virginian stared at him in silence.

Hamilton couldn't help but smile. He had actually managed to make Jefferson speechless.

Finally, after what felt like hours of tense silence, Jefferson nodded.

"Give me three months."

The very next day, Jefferson freed his slaves and became an abolitionist.

Two and a half months later, congress passed a bill regulating the gradual release of all slaves in the country, within the next ten years.

Four hours later, Hamilton arrived at Monticello.

He had spent the entire journey imagining what Jefferson might do to him first, and his breeches were straining uncomfortably against his cock. Jefferson waited for him at the door with cold eyes and smug lips.

"Look at you, the only slave in the country. I was wondering when you'd get here."

Hamilton looked up at him through long lashes. When he spoke, it was only a small whisper: "I came as soon as I could."

Jefferson raised his hand to Hamilton's face, stroked along his cheek with his thumb, and Hamilton leaned into the touch. Jefferson was whispering, too, but instead of small, it made him sound dangerous. "Well, you're in the south, and it's summer. I don't think you need your clothes."

Hamilton went to step through the door, but Jefferson's strong hand on his chest stopped him.

"Agh, what did I say?"

"Sir?"

Surely he couldn't mean...

Hamilton looked around. Monticello was outside the town, but there were workers in the distance, who could see him if they turned around.

"I'm paying my new employees to be discreet, and they know what to expect. Now undress."

Hamilton blushed at the thought of it, that people could see him, _would_ see him, getting naked for Jefferson. And yet, he couldn't deny that it also sent blood rushing further down. His breeches were already painfully tight, as he started undoing the buttons of his waistcoat with trembling hands.

Jefferson's hungry eyes followed his every movement, and Hamilton pulled his shirt out of his breeches and over his head. He knelt down to take off his shoes and stockings next, simultaneously dreading and desperately anticipating taking off his breeches.

He was shakily trying to open the buttons, when Jefferson purred in a deceptively sweet voice: "Hurry up, darlin', I don't have all day."

Hamilton breath hitched at that, but he finally managed to free his aching cock. The wind on his bare skin felt strange, and reminded him of how utterly exposed he was. He didn't look back towards the workers in the fields, but he could feel their burning gazes.

He jerked in surprise when Jefferson started speaking again: "Turn around, slowly, I want to see what I bought."

God, the way he said it. His southern drawl made Jefferson sound almost bored, like Hamilton was nothing more than a piece of meat sold on the market.

When Jefferson was satisfied with the show, he turned around without another word and gestured for Hamilton to follow him.

The large entrance hall had a marble floor, and was filled with art, flowers and gold. Jefferson fit right in, clothed in fine velvet, but Hamilton felt even more ashamed to be naked in a house like this. Although he supposed there wasn't much difference between himself and the equally naked roman statues on either side of the door they were heading toward. Only here because Jefferson liked looking at them, only there for his enjoyment.

Behind the door was a dining room with a long wooden table.

"Bend over, would you? You can hold onto the edge of the table if you need to." The cold distaste in his voice sent shivers down Hamilton's spine.

He leaned over the smooth wood, his bare ass on perfect display, and heard Jefferson unbuckle his belt behind him. "This is for every time you were an arrogant, disrespectful brat."

Whatever this was going to be, it would be amazing.

The first strike landed across Hamilton's ass and he moaned loudly at the impact.

"I should have known. Of course, a filthy whore like you would enjoy any sort of attention at all."

Another lash of the belt followed, even harder than the first. Hamilton jerked forward, and his achingly hard cock rubbed against the table.

"I'm sorry, sir!", he gasped.

Jefferson hit him again, multiple times in quick succession, and it felt like fire against Hamilton's already burning ass.

It was absolute hell, and he loved it.

His knuckles where white from strain, tightly gripping onto the table while Jefferson turned him into a whimpering mess. He was getting closer to the edge with every strike of new, crisp leather against his red and abused ass, but he didn't know if he was allowed to cum.

" _Please_ ", he groaned.

"Please what? Tell me what you want, pretty boy." Jefferson's voice sounded almost unaffected by the writhing, moaning man beneath him.

The assault on his ass continued while Hamilton scrambled for words. " _Please, I need... ughm... can I...please cum?... ngahh_ "

Jefferson's laughter cut through the haze of pain and pleasure. "If just my belt has sent you into such a state, sure. I don't care, as long as you clean it up."

Hamilton let go, let himself get lost in the sensations, the burning pain on his ass and the table rubbing too roughly against his cock. Another sharp strike, and it sent sparks through Hamilton's veins. He came with a shout, and Jefferson continued beating him through the orgasm and after.

It was too much, and he struggled, trying to get away from the continued torture. Of course, his body was too exhausted to achieve much, and he only increased the painful stimulation on his oversensitive cock. In the end, he simply laid there, limp and exhausted, whimpering in delicious pain with every new strike. Pleading Jefferson to stop, while praying he would continue.

Much too soon, he finally stopped.

Hamilton had already started to grow hard again.

Jefferson ordered him to stand up, and he did, steadying himself against the table in fear his knees might give in.

"Clean yourself up, then lick the table clean." He threw a rag to Hamilton, clearly intending for him to catch it, but his hands were too slow and the cloth hit his face and fell to the ground.

Without his hands supporting him, Hamilton stumbled. He held onto the table again, and managed to crouch down to collect the rag.

His face was at the same level as Jefferson's crotch, the large bulge the only sign that this was affecting him, too.

The rag was soft silk, of course it was. This was Jefferson's, after all.

Hamilton wiped away the cum smeared across his stomach and cock. He leaned over the table and lapped at the puddle of his own cum. It was bitter, but Hamilton was used to the taste of cum. Was even used to his own taste, as men loved to have him lick it off their fingers.

A quiet moan escaped him.

Immediately, his face burned red with shame. Jefferson must've noticed it, too. "You're _enjoying_ this? Damn, you're even more of a slut than I thought."

Hamilton managed to answer in a somewhat steady voice: "Sir, I would not have offered this if I wasn't sure I would enjoy anything you might do to me."

He would welcome pain, humiliation, even scars. He didn't want anything cut off, but Jefferson had always enjoyed to let him calm down, make him presentable again, just to ruin him anew. He would never sacrifice that for a couple of genuine punishments.

Hamilton leaned back down and licked Jefferson's table clean.

"Well done, darlin'."

"Sir, where should I put the cloth?" Hamilton looked at the dirty fabric in his hand.

Jefferson waved his hand. "Oh, just leave it on the table. One of my servants will find it." He leaned closer. "Now, I want you to walk in front of me when we go to your new room."

He wanted to see his work, gaze at Hamilton's bruised ass while he struggled to walk straight.

"Through that door over there.", Jefferson purred and grabbed Hamilton's ass as he turned around.

He winced at the pain shooting through his body, and Jefferson chuckled.

Hamilton walked to the door, careful as every step made him feel the angry red bruises on his backside. He stumbled through long hallways, feeling Jefferson's hungry eyes on him. Too fast, and his beat-up muscles protested, too slow, and Jefferson slapped his ass as punishment.

Behind another door was a room, with a large bed in the middle, and on the right a window to the garden. A desk and a wardrobe were pushed against the wall opposite to the door.

It was nice.

Hamilton hadn't expected his room to be nice.

It looked normal, safe for the metal rings on the left wall that looked like they belonged in a medieval dungeon. Jefferson stood by the door while Hamilton looked around the room. The pillows and bedlinens were soft, and white as snow. He opened the desk drawer, and it was filled with foolscap, ink bottles and quills. Hamilton smiled. He moved on to the wardrobe, and tried to open it, but the door was locked.

Suddenly, he heard Jefferson's voice right next to his ear. "That is for the things I might need for you. You aren't allowed to look, so go sit on the chair.", he said with an evil smile.

The hard wood was pressing against hurting skin, and Hamilton squirmed in his seat. It took all his willpower not to just stand up, but he knew Jefferson would punish him for it.

Then again, this whole day and probably the week after promised to be nothing but punishment anyways. He was Jefferson's new toy, and he would fuck and torture him every hour of the day before it became a normal, everyday thing and thus less frequent.

" _Oh, no!_ ", Jefferson feigned surprise: "I have forgotten the oil. Seems like you will have to go to the kitchen and fetch some."

"Sir?"

"Yes, pet?"

He wanted to ask for clothes, didn't want the kitchen staff to see him like this. But he knew Jefferson wouldn't give him clothes. And even if, they would still see him walk carefully, would still hear him asking for oil. And they already knew why he was here, anyways.

"I don't know where the kitchen is, Sir."

"There's a white door on the left side of the dining room, through there and down the stairs. Oh, and Hamilton?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Make sure no one fucks you before I do."

Oh god, the implication that anyone he met might just bend him over and fuck him dry.

It wasn't realistic, of course, Jefferson's servants would know better than to piss off their boss, but the fantasy was enough to make his heart beat like crazy. He saw no one else on his way to the kitchen. Still, he was walking on tiptoes. Every creak in the floorboards startled him, made him picture rough hands grabbing him, holding him down. All his struggles and screams pointless, too weak against the overwhelming force of the attacker.

He went through the door, and down a steep flight of stairs. Every step was torture, stretched burning skin over aching muscles. Hamilton held onto the cold metal handrail and made his way down until he stood in front of another door.

On the other side, he could hear dishes clattering and people shouting. Lots of people. Hamilton stood in front of the door for a few minutes, his face burning red, trying to build up the courage to open it. He had already taken long to get here, and Jefferson was waiting for him. Getting angry. If he took too long, Jefferson might go look for him. And maybe decide he didn't need oil, after all. A small part of him liked that idea. But a much bigger part was scared. Finally, the fear outweighed the Humiliation of asking for oil, and he opened the door.

The room turned silent in a second, with everyone staring at Hamilton. His face was crimson red, his hands awkwardly trying to cover his rock-hard dick.

"Uh...I...I...", he stammered.

"What, cut ya tongue out that soon?", the cook joked. Some of the others laughed, more at Hamilton himself than at the joke.

"I...ne-... need...uh...oil...", Hamilton managed to get out.

One of the kitchen maids turned around, and grabbed a bottle of oil out of a cupboard. She made a few steps in Hamilton's direction, then said: "catch it.", and threw him the oil.

He raised his hands and managed to catch it.

It was only when the entire room started laughing that he noticed his hands weren't covering his cock anymore. They could see how hard he was, that he _liked_ being nothing but a whore for Jefferson.

But he had the oil, and so he closed the door behind him and went back to his bedroom as fast as he could manage.

Jefferson was sitting on the bed with his breeches opened, lazily stroking himself. "Finally, you're here. What took you so long?"

"I'm sorry, Sir."

His dark brown eyes were piercing into Hamilton's soul. "That's good, but I asked you something. What took you so long?"

Hamilton held his gaze as he answered: "I was ashamed to go into the kitchen."

Jefferson continued in a dangerously soft voice: "You were too ashamed of your own submission, and so you decided to make me wait. Come here."

Hamilton felt like a rabbit, knowingly walking into a wolf's cave, as he couldn't help but obey.

Jefferson let his fingers ghost over Hamilton's cheek for a second, before laying them on the side of his face. He guided Hamilton closer with a deceptively gentle touch, and leaned in to whisper: "I know you think you are cleverer than me. Maybe you are, but you are also mine. And if you decide to disobey me, I will find something that you don't enjoy. Something that terrifies you. And I will not hesitate to destroy you. Understood?"

Hamilton couldn't answer, his throat was too tight to speak, too tight to breathe, so he nodded.

Jefferson was still stroking his hard cock. When he noticed Hamilton's expression, he smiled and shrugged: "I like it when you're scared."

And Hamilton liked to be scared. Jefferson's threat had been just as arousing as it had been frightening. But Jefferson was not one to make empty promises. And as much fun as it was to see the anger in his eyes, Hamilton would be very careful not to make him snap.

Jefferson rose, and opened the wardrobe. He took out some ropes, then turned around. "Now, sweetheart, oil on the nightstand and lay on the bed, ass up."

Hamilton did as he was told, and Jefferson tied his hands together and to the headboard. He then moved on to his feet and tied each to a bedpost, keeping Hamilton's legs spread. The position put a strain on his shoulders which didn't bother him now, but would start to hurt more the longer this took. The rope was smooth and soft like everything in this house, but thin enough to bite when he pulled on it.

He could hear Jefferson walk somewhere, then he heard the wardrobe open. Jefferson was preparing something, but Hamilton had no idea what.

When he was done, Jefferson sat next to Hamilton and caressed his back, his thighs and his ass.

The pressure was uncomfortable on the fresh bruises, but it was too light to really hurt. Hamilton tried to push up into the touch, to feel it properly, but Jefferson always moved his hand back just enough to deny Hamilton what he wanted.

"Look at you, my pretty little trophy. All bound and helpless for me. And _so eager_." He grabbed Hamilton's ass hard, for just a moment, before going back to feather light touches.

Hamilton groaned.

"Oh, but I think you can be more eloquent than that. Tell me what you want, darlin'. Tell me why you were _begging to be my slave_."

"You're the only one I've ever met who can break me, who knows how to hurt me just right so that I fall apart."

Jefferson's hand had stopped touching him, but came back now, slick with oil. One finger pressed into Hamilton, starting to stretch him.

"Go on, pet", Jefferson said.

" _I-... I want to be forced to your...mmgghhh...forced to your will. I want you to be cruel, and ahhhggg...I know you can. I want to be just another pretty thing in your collectioooohhhh_!"

A second finger pressed in, more filling, but still not enough.

" _Please, Sir_.", Hamilton gasped: " _please, I can take more, I need mo-...aaaahhhhhh!_ "

"I know you want more, darlin', but it's not for you to decide. You will take what I give you. But maybe if you beg some more, I'll decide to reward you for it."

" _Sir, I want your cock! Please, I want to be fucked and... nnnnggghhh...I want it to hurt! I'm such a slut, just a worthless whore...aaaahhhhh...I need to be filled, I need to be stretched on your thick cock. Please!_ "

Jefferson pulled out his fingers, and left Hamilton feeling empty. But he knew Jefferson would fuck him now, that he had succeeded in getting what he wanted.

His body wasn't at all ready, he knew that. Jefferson pushed past his tight rim and deep into him, splitting him open. Hamilton groaned at the pain, at Jefferson tearing him apart from the inside. He was on top of Hamilton, all around him, pressing him into the mattress and fucking him. He was hitting Hamilton's prostate with every jerk of his hips, and Hamilton could feel his orgasm fast approaching. But Jefferson was faster, and he came with a shout, spilling deep into Hamilton.

He pulled out and stood up, leaving Hamilton desperate and panting.

He hadn't noticed it among the pain of being forced to take Jefferson's cock, but his shoulders where aching from the uncomfortable position.

Jefferson took something from the nightstand and sat next to Hamilton. "This is so you'll always be nice and ready for me. You'll only take it out when you need to, when you clean yourself, while I fuck you, or when I want you to be tight."

Hamilton gasped as something cold was pushed inside him, until the wider base of it hit his rim. It wasn't particularly thick or long, but it rubbed against his prostate every time he moved.

"I have one more thing planned for you, darlin'." He tied a velvet blindfold over Hamilton's eyes. "Wouldn't wanna ruin the surprise, now would we?"

Jefferson untied the ropes, and Hamilton rolled his stiff shoulders. He sat up on the bed, and moaned at the pressure of the plug against his prostate. He carefully followed as Jefferson guided him to the side of the room that had rings in the wall.

He was pushed on his knees, and Jefferson tied his ankles to his thighs to keep him in a kneeling position. This rope was thicker, and wouldn't cut into his flesh if he fought.

Whatever this was, Jefferson expected him to fight.

He hadn't done anything wrong, had he? This couldn't be the horrible punishment Jefferson had talked about? If it was, he wouldn't have bothered to use ropes that wouldn't injure Hamilton.

His arms were pulled to each side and tied to the rings there, rope laid across his forehead and his hips to pin him to the wall. He couldn't move a single inch. Probably so that Jefferson wouldn't slip and injure him more than intended.

Whatever he had planned, struggling was dangerous.

His heart was drumming in his chest, and his cock achingly hard.

Jefferson took off the blindfold, and Hamilton blinked at the sudden light. On the desk, an open oil lamp was burning, and heating up in its flame was something that looked like a small branding iron.

"I-...Is that...Are you gonna..."

Fuck, he couldn't even say it. Brand me, mark me as yours, burn your name into my skin.

"Do you want that, whore?"

That wasn't a 'should I stop'. Jefferson would do this, even if he answered no. Especially if he answered no. Part of Hamilton wanted to say no, to scream and fight just to have Jefferson do it anyways. But his body would betray him and Jefferson would know that he lied. And then he would find something he didn't want, and do _that_ anyways.

"Yes. Please Sir, I'm yours."

Jefferson laughed. "Of course, always such a slut for pain. Now, open your mouth."

Hamilton parted his lips and bit down on the leather strap Jefferson had pushed in.

"I don't want you to bite off your skilled little tongue, darlin'.", he whispered in his ear and walked over to the desk to get the iron.

It was around the size of a large coin, the Letters T.J., elegantly curved and of course mirrored so they could be read on his skin.

Jefferson walked over, waving around the glowing red metal like it was nothing. "I wonder where I will put it. Maybe on your face, that way everyone can see you're mine at first glance. Although your face is rather pretty, and it would be a shame to ruin that. And since you won't be wearing clothes anymore, at least in summer, everyone can see it regardless. Maybe right on your nipple, that would be fun, wouldn't it? Or maybe..." he pointed the iron in the direction of Hamilton's cock, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off of it. He tried to shake his head, tried to beg 'please, no. Anywhere but there.', but all he managed was incoherent whimpers.

Jefferson laughed. "I'm just making jokes. I've already chosen the place, darlin'." He laid his hand on Hamilton's left shoulder and stroked a spot just below his collar bone with his thumb. "Here's pretty, don't you think?"

Hamilton couldn't see his shoulder with his head strapped to the wall, but he felt the heat as Jefferson let the glowing metal hover over his skin.

Jefferson leaned in to whisper "I can just burn my name into your body forever. Because I own it. _I own you_ , Hamilton."

He pushed the metal to his skin, and Hamilton screamed. He felt his skin burning off his flesh, worse than any pain he'd felt before. Jefferson pressed the iron against him for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. The angry hiss was loud enough to pierce through Hamilton's cries, and the air was filled with the biting smell of burned meat. Hamilton was squirming against the rope, instinctively trying to get away, trying to make it stop, but to no avail. All he did was make the plug in his ass rub against his prostate, again and again, until orgasm washed over him and he spilled across his lap.

The pain finally ended, and Jefferson wiped the tears off Hamilton's face with his thumb. "God, you're so pretty like this. All broken and crying for me."

He took alcohol and bandages out of the wardrobe, and started to clean the wound. It hurt, and even though it was nothing compared to the glowing iron, Hamilton whimpered in pain.

After he finished dressing the burn, Jefferson took the leather out of Hamilton's mouth. He stroked his own cock, long since hard again, and asked: "How did it feel?"

He sounded breathless.

Jefferson, who always kept his cool, sounded like a breathless mess.

Hamilton's own voice was rough from screaming as he answered: "It hurt like ten bullets, only the moment they entered was stretched into eternity. The pain came and came and it _wouldn't stop_ _burning me alive_. It was perfect hell. Thank you, Sir."

"Open your mouth.", Jefferson demanded, and Hamilton parted his lips and let Jefferson fuck into his mouth. He wanted to be good, to make it feel nice for Jefferson, so he hollowed his cheeks and sucked, swirled his tongue along the shaft and hummed around him. He was rewarded with a string of less and less coherent praise that came tumbling from Jefferson's lips.

"Oh, fuck! You're so good! _Fuck_ , do that again! _Yes! Mmmhhh!_ So perfect for me! _God, Hamilton!_ So hot! So... fuck... _so good_!"

He came in Hamilton's mouth, and Hamilton swallowed every last drop. After Jefferson had calmed down a little, he tucked away his softened cock and closed his breeches.

His effortlessly perfect aura from this afternoon was gone, with his shirt untucked and his hair dampened by sweat. The rich purple of his waistcoat was disrupted by stains of oil, cum and spit.

Hamilton felt a sense of pride at being able to get to him like that, making him drop the carefully crafted facade.

"I have to admit, this was by far the best idea you've ever had.", Jefferson said while he untied the ropes binding Hamilton to the wall.

Hamilton was too exhausted to stand up, so he sat there and leaned against the wall while Jefferson packed everything he had used back into the wardrobe.

"Might have to take this and cool it in a bucket of water before it burns the house down." He picked up the branding iron and the metal tray he had probably put it on after using it. Using it to burn his name onto Hamilton’s body. Fuck.

"I'll let you rest, and I'll send someone to bring you dinner soon."

He was almost at the door when he turned around and smirked. "See you tomorrow, darlin'."

Hamilton sat there for a while, thinking about his new life. Today had been good. And while he was fully aware that not every day would be like this, that was probably for the better. Many people had told him, over and over again, that he needed more rest.

He only stood up when someone knocked on his door. "Mister Hamilton?"

He opened, and behind it was a house maid, shyly shielding her eyes from his nakedness as she gave him a plate of bread and cheese, as well as today's paper. "Your dinner and the evening news for you." She turned around and hurried away before he could say thank you.

All in all, he could certainly get used to this life. When he went to bed, he felt the plug inside him every time he moved, his shoulder was burning and his whole body ached with a hundred little bruises, but eventually he fell asleep, exhausted and happy.


End file.
